


Not a Good Man

by 3rdstarksistr



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Be a good little bird, Dominant Sandor, F/M, First Time, Oral Sex, Post-Eyrie, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 03:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7026712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdstarksistr/pseuds/3rdstarksistr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a moment of passion after Sandor saves Sansa during their trek out of the Eyrie, Sandor decides it's time he took what he wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Good Man

**Author's Note:**

> Age up Sansa if you want, I don't specify, it's her around the time she's in the Eyrie.

“I’m not a good man, Sansa.” She had heard him say after his lips touched hers and went lower.

It hadn’t meant to happen. They had been traveling for awhile out of the Eyrie when she was taken. She was going back to the queen they said. She was nearly hopeless after three days when he set upon them on Stranger in the early dawn. He was a dark shadow of steel in the hazy light, and the clash of it rang out into the stillness. She’d tried to get away, get to a horse when one had held onto her legs. Tears were streaking her face as she struggled to kick him off. Struggled until he stopped, dead.

She was shaking in Sandor’s arms then, saying his name over and over, pawing at him with her little hands on his hard armor, her garments soaking up the splattered blood. He’d calmed her, but it wasn’t enough. His eyes were alarmed, confused even once she found her way to them. She’d taken one of his hands and placed it against her head, her eyes half-closing at the comfort as she kept her gaze with his. He’d eased it into her hair then and that is when his lips found hers.

As his hands roamed over her, she was half-afraid he would take her right there, but he’d pulled away and his eyes had searched hers. All he would find was her contented surrender there she’s sure of it. Taking a spare horse, Sandor had tied it to his, keeping her as close as he dared with Stranger’s temperament, taking them to a stream to wash and change.

Every time he looks to her though she understands for it is still fresh for her, what it was to be torn from him.

As the day wanes, a nervousness settles in the pit of her stomach for what the night would bode. “Not a good man,” echoes in her mind, his rasping, deep voice in her ear, “what I want,” and the feel of his hand digging into her flesh. It only intensifies as they reach a minor crossroads, and she sees the sign for an inn flapping in the wind. Dusk is not too near, but she knows his purpose when he presses Stranger to a faster clip toward the place.

He betrays nothing in his routine movements, setting Stranger to rights and the other horse in the stable. She gulps though when he asks for a feather bed, and the innkeeper raises his brows but offers the room all the same. She follows him up, a saddle under one of his arms and the rest of their belongings in the other.

Eying the threshold, she’s hesitant to cross as her heart beats faster. Having gathered the courage to enter, she then stands there taking in the still modest room, sunlight angling into it and onto the one bed. She hears him set down their things and looks to see him turn to her, his eyes as heavy on her as ever.

“You’re breathing like a horse at a gallop, girl,” he says. “Calm yourself.” Calm myself! She cries out inside. He goes behind her and closes the door, then she feels the heat of him, close to her, his hand grazes her shoulder.

“I’m still a maiden,” she says in a rush, springing away.

“Truly?” He narrows his eyes now.

“Yes,” she says, insistent and brash. “Do I sound as though I lie?”

He starts unbuckling his armor then, and she takes a sharp intake of breath. “Calm yourself, little bird,” he says, firm. “Sit on the bed.” She looks up at him with round, worried eyes before taking a place on the soft bed. Calm, she thinks, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. Unbidden, the feel of his kiss, his strong arms around her comes to her, and she lets out a breathy sigh.

“That’s a good little bird,” he says to her, and she looks around to him, finding a strange satisfaction in his praise.

Out of his armor, he comes and kneels in front of her, his arms extend on either side, as he looks up at her. “Are you hungry?” He asks, and the scent of him, so close, all around her, it does something to her.

“I don’t think I could eat,” she answers. “Are you?”

“Aye,” he smirks, looking over her. “Sansa, what did I say to you, before?”

She’s knows what he’s referring to. “You said you’re not a good man, but that’s not true.”

“If you knew what I wanted, you wouldn’t say that.”

“Don’t you want me?” She asks, feeling herself blush. How could that be bad?

“Gods, little bird,” he says, his hands find their way to her thighs, the urgency in his desire exciting her.

“Please have me, Sandor,” she looks down at him, feeling too much as she reaches down to hold his face in her hands.

His hands tighten their hold on her as his eyes close, and he breathes in and out to steady himself. “You want to be my good little bird then?” He says next, opening his eyes again. The tone of his voice carries an authority she feels powerless to, all she can do is nod.

“Good little birds say yes. Understand?” He asks as her heart hammers with the feel of her dress coming up over her knees. He stops, his eyebrows raised, looking to her to respond.

“Yes,” she says, shaky.

She jumps slightly as his hand trails up her thigh, and she whimpers as he tugs down her small clothes, relieving her of them. His hand follows the path up her legs again, and she tightens as he reaches her cleft. She tenses at the heightened feeling of being bare to him in her most private place. He nudges her legs apart further, keeping his eyes on hers as he starts to touch her. “Fuck, if you aren’t a wet, little thing. Excited are you, little bird?”

“Yes,” she answers, knowing it’s what he wants.

“Yes, so good,” he says as his finger presses into her, invading where no one has before. It’s strange, and her legs start to close on their own, but she sees the burn in his eyes. “Did I tell you to close your legs?”

“No,” she says, small.

“Open, more,” he says, stern. She complies, more exposed to him as his finger goes deeper into her and his eyes fall to look at her there.

“There it is,” he says, a smirk pulling the corner of his mouth.

“What?” She asks.

“Your maidenhead.” His eyes flick back up to hers.

“Oh,” she says, unsettled.

“Do you want to keep it?” He asks, suddenly a bit apprehensive, throwing her off balance.

“Do you want me to?” She asks, and her answer must please him by the fire and light shining in his eyes at her.

A twinge of pain makes her gasp, her face scrunching, and she winces as his finger leaves her. “You’re mine now,” he says, showing her the blood on his finger. She’s uncertain as she looks at him, feeling her control slip away as he does what he wants to her and not knowing what else that will be. She feels tears threaten to acknowledge what he said is true.

“Little bird, up, up,” he motions, rising. He mars his tunic with her blood and proceeds to pull it off. Standing now in front of him, she feels small, not just in stature but in spirit, too. He reaches around her and starts tugging at the laces of her dress, she helps him, and soon he’s pushing it down roughly. She steps out of her dress, nudging it to the side with her foot.

“And another dress,” he laughs as he bends to grab the hem of her shift and pull it over her head. He wraps his arms around her then, pulling her against the hot skin of his chest, his hair there tickling her. Breathing deep and relaxing against him, she warms, inside and out – he knew she needed this comfort without asking for it, making it all the better. He nuzzles into her head as his fingers slowly rub her back, and she feels safe here with him now. She’s no longer a maiden, she breathes out, she’s Sandor’s.

She shifts to look up at him, rising to her tiptoes, and he pulls her closer, bending to kiss her. His soothing touch begins to tense again as he takes over, and she can feel her heart start beating stronger again. He makes an impatient sound before he steps back to pull of the rest of his clothes. Her eyes widen as they land on his manhood before looking away.

“Little bird,” he says, his deep voice soothing her despite his hand taking hers and guiding it around him. Discomfort at the new experience, she whimpers again. He’s hot to the touch and hard despite the skin like velvet with veins rippling over his manhood. As her hands move over the soft, flared end, Sandor groans, telling her, “On your knees.” What? She wonders as he gently nudges her shoulder down. She lowers, finding his manhood eye-level. He can’t mean…

“Take it in your mouth, careful,” he tells her. She unsure, but it’s what he wants. So, she takes the base of it in her hands as she slides her mouth over him, her tongue finding the underside. She tenses as his hands enter her hair, slightly pushing her to take him deeper. She pulls back, still keeping him in her mouth as he slightly thrusts into her.

“Suck,” he says, so she presses her lips against him, tightening around him as he continues to move in and out of her mouth. “Gods,” he says, his breathing hard. Beginning to understand, she moves with him, testing taking in more of his length as they move together, over and over until she wonders when it will end. His hands pull at her hair almost painfully, and he moans when she tries to suck even harder. Then, he’s gushing into her mouth, the warm, salty liquid overwhelming her.

“Show me,” he tells her, and she looks up at him wide-eyed as she tries to keep from spitting it all out on the floor. “Your mouth,” he says, and she opens it to him. He nods, telling her, “Now swallow it like a good little bird.” She protests with a little whine as she does as he says, feeling it go down her throat. It almost turns her sick.

“To the bed now,” he tells her, and she rises, going to sit on it.

He’s just looking at her then with a lightness to his eyes she’s never seen. She could get lost there, the way he’s looking at her. He moves forward and has her lay out on the bed as he sits beside her. His hands rove over her, one settling on her heart as her chest goes up and down from her labored breathing.

“Do I scare you so?” He asks, a worried look entering his eyes.

“Oh no, Sandor,” she jumps to reassure him. She looks down though, “I just don’t know what you want and that scares me.” She looks up to see him nod, though he doesn’t move to explain.

He ghosts his hands around her face, taking her hair and arraying it over her before running one of his thumbs over her cheek. “You’re beautiful, you know, Sansa. Too beautiful.” She could cry his words touch her so much, and she feels like everything to him, his whole world as he looks at her. Her eyes widen though as she feels his finger at her nipple, lightly teasing it in a circle that sends strange sparks through her, but then he’s bearing down, pinching it, making her squirm, her head thrown back at the intense feeling as she tightens her mouth.

“Open your mouth, little bird, loosen yourself,” he tells her, “I want to hear every sound you make.” Every sound? She says, doing as he says.

As she takes a deep breath to relax, his tighter hold on her nipple makes her whimper in the most wanton way that would even make Randa proud.

“That’s my little bird,” he says, his hand then moving down to her woman’s place. He shifts to lie next to her, his other arm pulling her against him as he mouth finds her breast. It’s almost too much, all the newness and intense sensations of his touch, so demanding as she feels him start to grow hard against her.

Her whimpers turn to soft moans when his hand trails around the folds she had only begun to explore on her own. Her hips press up against his hand on their own when he hits a spot that makes her eyes roll back. “Sandor,” she says his name, her hands moving to his head for purchase, his mouth still sucking at her breast. It’s too much and she nearly squirms under him as any pleasure she has known is intensified tenfold.

His mouth moves up to find her neck, pulling on her tender skin there. He covers one of her hands with his for a moment, squeezing it before guiding her hand around his neck where she holds onto him. She takes a deep breath that ends in a deeper moan as his hand returns to her folds, moving to press into her again.

“Let it take you,” he tells her. The pleasure he’s eliciting there is so mesmerizing she begins to move against him, her whines and moans coming unbidden now as she more freely allows it to roll through her. It’s what he wants, she tells herself, giving her body over to him more and more with each touch.

He captures her lips again in a hungry kiss, pulling on her lips and delving into her in equal turns. He tightens his hold of her against him, his now hard manhood pressing into her soft flesh. All of it serves to render her into a heady bliss as the pleasure continues and builds, her limbs starting to tremble as she’s overcome with it.

“More,” she can’t believe she hears her lips say in between his urgent kisses. He increases his hand’s pressure against her as he strokes faster. Her hips push up as her legs fall open further, and she forgets herself, forgets everything. Only his touch is what matters, and she’s completely dependent on it. The pleasure mounts until she can take it no more, and her body shatters, even jerks at the sudden ecstasy.

She lies there, panting, unable to move as he kisses all over her. The intensity of what just happened stuns her, especially as she starts to remember herself. Sandor has no such qualms as he moves over her, his arms finding their place on either side of her as she’s trapped under him. His mouth is insatiable as he continues to press on her lips and draw on them. She wraps her arms back up around his neck from where they had fallen and that’s when she feels him hard against her woman’s place.

He said to only say yes, she remembers, as her mind tries to catch up with what her body is doing, or rather what is being done to it. “I’m going to take you now,” he stops kissing her to say, panting as his cock slides over where he was stroking her only a minute before. He shifts and then she feels him pressing against her entrance, thick and hard. He groans as he pushes into her, stretching her immensely. Her fingernails press into his shoulders at the feel of him entering her for the first time.

His body is emanating heat above her, and she can see his strength in his muscles taut over her and then feel it as he penetrates further into her with a sharp thrust. She’ feels so vulnerable, so consumed at having him inside her there, having a part of him make it’s way into her very being. He continues to thrust, filling her more and more until she thinks it’s impossible.

“Fuck,” she hears him curse under his breath, as he drives into her harder, sitting up to grab each leg of hers and then pinning it back. Oh my, she thinks, he’s really holding her down and taking her now. He slides deeper into her, even more relentless in his force.

“Don’t get quiet on me, little bird,” he says to her. “Tell me you want me to fuck you. Say it.”

“I want you to fuck me, Sandor,” she says as she struggles to get enough air to speak.

“How bad?”

“Very bad,” she gets out, trying to please him.

He groans then, pounding into her. “Want more?”

“More please,” she says, quietly.

His grip tightens on her legs, contorting her further as he hits her with wave again and again of his power. “Say it again, beg me,” Sandor tells her.

“Please, Sandor. Please have me. Please. Please.” She keeps saying it as the assault on her senses turns to a new sort of pleasure, some deep, unnamable feeling of satisfaction that she suddenly never wants to end.

“Every time my cock is hard you’re going to have it,” he says with a vicious bite as he somehow thrusts even harder into her. Then, his hands are digging into her legs painfully, her back bent under his pressure, and his eyes find hers in all their wild glory. He jerks his thrusts deep into her, crying out in a guttural moan. Then he starts to slow, his eyes half-closing and hazing over, until he stops, pulling out of her and falling next to her.

He’s like some sort of wild animal, panting after it’s caught its prey. Sansa can’t help but think so as she stretches out her legs, panting herself, not knowing what to do. She turns to her side, facing him, and he stretches out a thick arm to pull her to his side. She’s relieved now, feeling safe again as he holds her there despite the ache between her legs.

“Fuck me, gods,” Sandor finally says. His hand starts to run in smooth circles over her skin. She closes her eyes and moves closer to him. “You’re perfect, you know that?” He raises his head to look at her before letting it fall back down from the effort. He’s so tired now, she smiles to herself.

“You’re happy with me?” She asks. “I didn’t say no.”

“You’re a good little bird. Who couldn’t be happy?” He says with a snort. His arm lays back out against the bed, and she takes this as a sign it’s over and moves to get off the bed. Her shift would be nice. “Where are you going?” He says to her, making her freeze. He grabs her then and flips her over with a laugh.

His huge hand cups part of her butt, smoothing over it. “You’re very good, but it’s good to remember to stay good.” Her eyes go wide as she feels the sudden pain of his hand coming down to spank her. He sits up then, pulling her across his lap before he lands another blow. Why? She wants to ask, she was being good. He hits her again, even harder, making her yelp at the impact. She’s whimpering then, and cries, “Please Sandor, please no.”

“One more for saying no,” he says, hitting her again, hard against her backside, making her cry out again. He helps her sit upright, and she wipes a few stray tears at her unexpected discipline.

His hands are running all over her again as his nose finds her neck, tickling her. “So smooth, so sweet,” he tells her. He’s then grabbing her hand and moving it towards his groin. His manhood is already erect and growing harder. Again? She wonders, a little panic in her.

Her eyes go wide, looking up at him in the dimming light of dusk. “I want you again,” he tells her.

“Yes,” she answers, nodding. He may not be a good man, but she’ll be his good little bird.

 


End file.
